


The Curious Case of the Wolf at 221B

by Brynncognito



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Gen, Werewolf John, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-09
Updated: 2017-04-09
Packaged: 2018-10-17 00:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10582824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brynncognito/pseuds/Brynncognito
Summary: John's feeling a bit... off, and he's not quite sure why. Of course it's Sherlock who (eventually) figures it out.





	

John’s skin prickles with an itch just beneath the surface he can’t quite seem to scratch. He twitches, shifts uncomfortably in his seat, and tries desperately to focus on the newspaper in front of him. John doesn’t  _ see _ Sherlock’s raised eyebrow so much as he senses it. And that just makes him even more irritable beneath his restlessness.

“Don’t say a word,” John growls, spitting the words from between clenched teeth. Whatever smartarse question or comment Sherlock has, John  _ doesn’t _ want to hear it.

Sherlock frowns in John’s periphery but turns back to whatever it is he’s doing on his phone. 

Another few minutes pass in silence, though not in comfort, because John’s still fighting the most  _ miserable _ sensation of agitation and itchiness and what seems like anxiety. Finally, John decides he can’t stand another moment in his damned armchair any longer. All the more angry and self-conscious at Sherlock’s keen observation, John throws the newspaper down and stomps toward the door. He only pauses long enough to grab his coat and give a curt notice that he’s going for a walk.

The fresh air makes things both better and worse. Better, because he’s no longer feeling quite so pent-up. Worse, because it turns out the restlessness was only the beginning. John breathes in deep lungfuls of the semi-polluted London air. He even closes his eyes for a moment, savoring the uniquely sharp mix of scents. Speedy’s must be baking some fresh bread, and clearly someone needs to check the exhaust on their car, and there seem to be a million other strangely specific odors that John instantly recognizes.

It’s honestly somewhat bizarre and disconcerting, but the moment passes, and it just smells like normal London again. John shakes his head at himself with a rueful smile.

A few laps around the neighborhood ought to clear his head.

\- - - - - - - - - -

A few laps around the neighborhood most definitely do not clear his head.

By the time he’s been out of the flat for at least 30 minutes, John is only feeling  _ more  _ keyed up. He’s positively  _ wired _ with the kind of energy he’s rarely experienced since his youth. He feels like he should jog, or run. Is this what he gets for never exercising properly? He’ll admit he gets positively lethargic between cases, like Sherlock’s melancholy is contagious.

Sometimes, being a doctor does John more harm than good. He’s got more than enough information to run through any number of troubling potential diagnoses for every little abnormal symptom he experiences.

This latest oddity is no exception. 

John’s so deep in thought, brow furrowed and gaze half-focused on the pavement directly in front of him, that he doesn’t notice the woman and her dog until he nearly bowls them over. To be fair, she was so busy texting that she hadn’t noticed him either.

Immediately, John’s all apologies to the woman. He’s not a complete wanker, after all, and he’s willing to accept responsibility for their accident even if she was also partially to blame. For quite possibly the first time in his life, though, John’s found a dog that seemingly does  _ not  _ like him. Maybe this wouldn’t be too shocking if it wasn’t a bloody  _ Labrador Retriever _ . John’s never met an unfriendly Lab in his life. Until now, anyway.

“I’m so sorry, he’s never acted like this before!” the woman assures John anxiously, tugging at her dog’s leash. The yellow Lab’s lip is curled, a low warning snarl just barely audible. John steps back carefully, giving the pair their space.

“That’s quite alright,” John replies amiably, though he’s genuinely troubled. Has something gone so terribly wrong with him that even  _ dogs _ want nothing to do with him?

  
The thought stays with him the whole walk back to 221b.

**Author's Note:**

> Comments greatly appreciated! I hope there will be much more of this where that came from, but appreciation will very likely help me motivate myself to write some more. :)
> 
> Currently gen but might change to slash down the road.
> 
> Thank you to mostlyhydratrash on tumblr for the helpful beta-read!


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